Break Up and Rebuild Better
by Vanessa S. Quest
Summary: Probably going to abandon this, but if I get enough reviews, I might add to it. Starts OMC/Reid ends Hotch/Reid... if not just implied.


Reid had always suspected that certain avenues of a social life would never touch him, they would never "apply" to a person of his stature. Not because he was great, but because he was fairly certain he wouldn't take unwarranted risks.

Half a box of Godiva later, and he realizes he has become that 'girl' in that 'sitcom' or rom-com, or any other situational romance gone awry. He let out a groan, he felt bloated and while he was anything but fat, he suddenly felt worse for using food as a coping mechanism.

It wasn't that Reid had never dated before, he just never dated LONG. He wasn't a virgin either, despite Morgan's jabs. Or maybe it was because of those jabs he lost it. He was 25 when he lost it, not to a woman either, but to a very attractive man in a bookstore who had chatted him up. He had went on three dates, had gotten drunk and they had had coitus. He had never received a call-back, and when he called back he was greeted with a 'this number is not in service' message. For the longest time he felt like he had performed poorly, and as such had read up on it to improve.

He had no idea about the social norms of a call-back or a booty-call or an established relationship except in what Morgan might set base of, and even then- he doubted half of the accuracy in it. His best friend was more likely to razz him then educate him- that's what made him such a shitty wing man for Reid, well, that and his ability to snipe his targets- or even worse, the fact that Morgan was utterly straight and Reid was so utterly not.

Reid looked at his canter of bourbon, he rarely had a need to refill it, but it and Lady Godiva had been calling him quite loudly since Friday evening when he was informed of his relationship status. He was only glad this didn't come up during a case. Then again, maybe that was opposite, maybe a case would have been distracting. Maybe he wouldn't even have noticed it was over, maybe he wouldn't analyze how it crashed and burned and that he had damn well known better- known it would.

It started with how he intentionally crossed his leg over to the left. He never did that, his bad knee's crippling arthritic pain for doing it was a given, but his date had sat on that side and he wanted to compensate his inability to form real relationships by looking like he did like him. He was sure he'd grow into it, he had several credentials he was looking for.

Attractive gay man within the right age parameters, sociopolitical philosophies, value systems, compliance, temperament, and in good financial standings… it would be easy to settle into a productive life with those quadrants being met. There were no threats of children, no noisy pets, no overtly annoying hobbies like 'pyromania' and he worked with the mentally ill because he was altruistic. Really, on paper he was perfect… and yet the reality of it was he was boring.

He also snored. And had a smell, not a bad smell, but something about it gave Reid a headache, and he was certain that his pheromone receptors were being clearly indicated that it was a no-go… but how do you override the paper values for the personal findings when those aren't even quantitative? It was bad science! So, he made sure his body language read correctly, 'I'm open,' it read. 'I'm responsive, I'm interested…'

It was a lie, he was interested for xyz hours and then he was too tired and needed to be mindful of his work schedule. Of course, then there was guilt about calling the night early, so he'd do things like read up on points of interest- he'd research things that his lover had brought up in interest…

…Occupational hazards of being a profiler. He knew full well how to convey interests without really being interested. He wonders for a moment if Hotch ever did that for Haley, but then- that comparison was horrible, Hotch had loved Haley… still loved Haley, even with all her flaws, and all of Hotch's. They weren't able to make it work, but love was actually there.

He wondered if he was capable of that emotion, and on that note refilled and reemptied his canter of bourbon. By time he realized he was more drunk than necessary, he was already dialing Hotch to ask him about that line of thought.

It registered, albeit a bit farther back in his mind, that this is what Garcia would refer to as a "drunk call".

Before he could really care to extrapolate how bad an idea it was to drunk-call his boss, Hotch had answered. "Reid, it's 3 AM, if this isn't a case…"

"Sorry… sorry, I kind of lost track of time, I've been drinking… I was just dumped." He laughs at himself, the self-depreciated sort of laugh, "I don't know why I'm so upset, maybe because it's rejection, but I knew it wasn't going well… I had to fake repoire. Did you ever do that? I mean it's probably totally out of line, but did you ever feign interest with Haley because you wanted to make her happy because it's human to want the person you love happy even if you don't give two shits about the drapes or… or is this part of the human experience I'm missing and that somehow you did care about drapes, I don't know why I'm focusing on drapes, I don't have a thing for them. Really. Um, right, it's 3 AM, no one has a thing for drapes at 3 AM. Sorry, I probably shouldn't have called, should I have…?"

"Reid, are you at home?" If Reid were any less drunk he'd have picked up on how much more alert Hotch sounded.

"Yeah, since we got back from the office… I probably should have gone out for bread before hitting the bourbon, but it was so good and I didn't have it in me to stop once I started…" He smiled, his belly warm from booze. "I'm sorry, I'll see you on Monday Hotch. Again, sorry for waking you up."

"It's alright." Hotch said, he was half-dressed by time Reid had hung up.

Half an hour later, Reid who was more than half-asleep draped across his couch- still swirling his glass of bourbon- heard a knock. He gave a cursory head flip upward to see the doorknob jostle and open as Hotch entered, pulling the extra key back as he gave a view of the room. Nothing was overturned or out of place, if anything it looks like Reid had settled everything perfectly calmly, waltzed to the liquor supply and immediately began draining it.

On the couch, a paler, limper form of the gangly genius presented his self. It was clear he was intoxicated, pass-out level of drunk. It left Hotch questioning calling paramedics or dealing with it, so he casually approached and put a hand on Reid's wrist. The other was so drunk he seemed to think of it as a nudge to scoot over or something to like effect. He checked his pulse and found it to still be in 'safe' limits from all his time checking a victim on a crime scene. He was happy his skills had merited the mastery of the 'A-Ok… physically' scale, however that was about all he could be happy about in this situation.

Reid was hurting, Reid was hurting and reaching out and he didn't know how to make a reach for it. Reid had known about the divorce, about Hotch's failings and yet he sought him for insight about how to feign love. Hotch thought of himself as a better actor than that. Did Reid somehow pick up that his feelings for Haley were merely luke-warm and more for show than anything else?

"How much did you have to drink?" He asks.

"350cc's." Reid had started, "That converts to 0.35 liters or 8 shots- a shot is 1.5 ounces, with the proof being 100… my blood alcohol content is probably 0.1903 with metabolism of consumption."

Hotch touches his forehead.

"Wait, wait, it's 3AM, so it's probably only 0.13 by now… I kind of lost track of time." Reid smiled, "No, it has to be later… what time is it?"

"3:10, I sped." Hotch mentions, "The roads are empty at this time of night, and I had the lights on, so no one pulled me over." Hotch bluffs, but he locks eyes with Reid. He can't say he's glad his employee is shit-faced, but compared to being higher than a kite on god knows what would count as 'dilaudid' in the DC area, he would take a drinking binge with a smile and a curtsy if asked.

"Mm, so, why'dja come over? I'm pretty sure drunk calls are supposed to stay over the phone, or is that only an invitation? I thought they were supposed to be limited to things referenced when I'm sober and easier to be embarrassed about…"

"No, drunk calls are usually done in groups. Reid, why did you ask me about Haley instead of Garcia about Kevin?"

"Because Garcia and Kevin's a bit of a bad lie, don't you think? You… you and Haley were different."

"How so?" He waited, he heard nothing but loud breathing and realized Reid was out cold. He let out a breath and poured some water. He managed to get the unconscious Reid to drink it and somehow managed to get him to chew down a fistful of vitamins.

It didn't come until morning, any conversation the two would have on the matter further. But for now, Hotch was happy to think of things he could do to whoever dumped Reid, Garcia's utter destruction of his credit score aside, he knew plenty of friends in the prosecutorial circuit who could easily make the man squirm 'questioning' him in regards to material witnesses or something to that effect.


End file.
